Soon, only Steve and Thor were left with Tony, who was ranting under his breath.

"Either he's never heard of a door, or he just likes pulling glass out of his shorts," Tony muttered. "This seems to be a favorite superhero move. No respect for windows."

Steve sighed, but Thor only looked very confused. Peeking out of the Nick-Fury shaped hole in the window, he said, "The sun is staring to rise. Let us go back to bed and sort this out tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow," Steve noted.

Thor looked down at the hammer in his hand, and then handed it to Steve. "Here you are. You can test the theory yourself. Please do not lose it, or take over Asgard, or I'm afraid I will have to destroy you."

Steve looked after him as he walked away, a little concerned by these threatening-but-not-really-threats threats.

"Tony?"

"What?"

"We have the hammer now."

Tony turned on his heel and marched towards the elevator. "Come on, quick, before any more monsters come raging through the halls, Frost Giants try to take over the world, or paranoid S.H.I.E.L.D. agents break any more windows."

Steve followed, looking down at the hammer in his hand, still a little shocked. He didn't really notice as Tony pressed the button to summon the elevator, nor when he said, "Come on!" and dragged him in.

Annoyed, Tony jabbed at the button to take them to the first floor. When they arrived, the elevator doors slid open. "Cap?"

"Hm."

"CAPTAIN ROGERS!"

Steve was so startled that he dropped the hammer on Tony's foot as he snapped to attention. Tony gasped in pain and doubled over.

"STEVE! GET THIS HAMMER OFF OF MY FOOT!"

He did so as quickly as he could, and Tony curled up in a ball.

"Uh…Tony?"

"WHAT?"

"Are…are you alright?"

"NO! CALL 911! I THINK MY FOOT IS BROKEN!"

Steve reached under his bathrobe to take out a telephone, circa 1942. "Do you have a plug anywhere?"

Tony couldn't even believe it, and the pain wasn't helping. A few dozen unprintable curse words later, he handed Steve his cell phone, and guided him to the telephone app.

The call connected, and the operator said, "911. Please state your name and your emergency."

Steve said, "My name is Steve Rogers, and my friend—"

"YOU ARE NO FRIEND TO ME, CAPTAIN CLUTZ!"

"—Tony Stark…well, I think his foot is broken."

"Wait," said the operator. "Steve Rogers? Like, Captain America?"

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Yes, but what does that have to do with—"

"YOU ARE MY HERO!" screamed the operator in excitement. "I LOVE YOUR ABS, AND BLONDE HAIR, AND YOUR BEAUTIFUL FACE, AND, OH, DID I MENTION YOUR ABS?"

Steve was confused by the operator's voice. "Are you a man, or a woman?"

"You can't just ask people what their gender is," Tony moaned from the floor.

The operator clarified, "A MAN. BUT IT'S OKAY, CAUSE YOU AND BUCKY USED TO BE A THING, RIGHT?"

"Er, what?" Steve was even more confused. "I don't understand." He looked down at Tony. "Tony-"

"WHAT?"

Covering the entire phone with his hands, as he was a little unsure as to where the speaker was, Steve told him, "I think a man is trying to obtain my affections."

"Welcome to the 21st century. Now, tell him TO STOP FANGIRLING OVER YOU AND GET AN AMBULANCE DOWN HERE!"

"Right." Steve turned his attention back to the operator. "Excuse me sir, but please stop fangirling over me. I need to get an ambulance to Stark Tower. Tony has been injured."

The operator snorted. "Who cares? I'm Team Cap all the way!"

This made absolutely no sense to Steve, so he hung up.

"Well, is an ambulance coming or not?" Tony demanded.

Steve shook his head. "Looks like I'll have to drive you."

"You drive like a hyperactive old lady who drank five RedBulls."

Understanding nothing beyond the individual words, Steve said, "Well, it is an emergency."

"You're going to get us killed."

He couldn't deny the possibility.